Page 6 of Rescued By the Surly Sasquatch

The wolves froze, their ears pinned back in instinctive submission. Then, as one, they turned and fled, melting into the underbrush as if they'd never been.

As the last wolf disappeared from view, Chase felt a surge of energy pulse through the forest. The trees around him shivered, their leaves rustling in a non-existent breeze. The very air grew thick with an invisible force. For a brief moment, the entire clearing was bathed in a soft, ethereal glow, as if the forest itself was responding to his presence and actions.

Chase's eyes widened in surprise. He had always been connected to the forest, but this was different. It was as if his emotional state—his desire to protect Betsy—had triggered something deeper, something tied to the very essence of the land. The realization both thrilled and unsettled him.

He waited only long enough to see Betsy run, her basket left forgotten on the forest floor, before he too retreated into the shadows. His heart pounded in a way it hadn't in years, the taste of her fear sharp on his tongue, and the lingering sensation of the forest's reaction tingling through his body.

Chase waited only long enough to see Betsy run, her basket left forgotten on the forest floor, before he too retreated into the shadows. His heart pounded in a way it hadn't in years, the taste of her fear sharp on his tongue.

He followed her at a distance, watching as she stumbled and scrambled her way back to the cabin. Only when she was safely inside, the door locked behind her, did Chase allow himself to relax.

What had he done? Why had he interfered? This went against everything he stood for, every rule he'd set for himself over long centuries of guardianship.

And yet, as he stood at the edge of the clearing, watching the warm glow of lights from the cabin windows, Chase couldn't bring himself to regret it. There was something about this human, this Betsy, that called to him in a way he couldn't explain.

It was dangerous. Foolish. Probably doomed.

But he returned to the clearing and emptied out the basket of the itchy leaves. He filled it instead with edible mushrooms and real mint leaves. In her clumsy, human way, she was attempting to connect with his forest. The thought stirred something within Chase, a feeling he wasn't quite ready to name.

With silent steps, he approached the cabin. Every instinct screamed at him to turn back, to maintain the distance that had kept him safe for so long. But something stronger propelled him forward.

Chase placed the basket on the porch, careful not to make a sound. For a moment, he stood there, so close to the door that separated him from Betsy. He could hear her moving inside, the splash of water suggesting she was tending to her poison ivy welts.

His hand, massive and furred, hovered near the door. So easy to knock. To reveal himself. To change everything.

But no. Not yet.

But as Chase turned to melt back into his forest, he knew with a bone-deep certainty that things had changed. The careful balance he'd maintained for so long had shifted, and at the center of that shift was a clumsy, ridiculous, utterly captivating human woman.

"What is she doing to me?" Chase rumbled, his words swallowed by the night.

As he disappeared into the darkness, leaving no trace of his passage, one thought echoed through his mind. A thought that was equal parts promise and threat, hope and warning.

Chapter 3

Betsy

Betsy woke to a symphony of aches and pains that would make an octogenarian yoga instructor wince. Every muscle in her body seemed to be staging its own personal revolt against the very concept of movement. As she gingerly sat up, wincing at the protests of her lower back, memories of yesterday's forest fiasco came flooding back.

"Well," she groaned, running a hand through her tangled hair, "at least I'm not wolf chow. Small victories, Betsy. Small victories."

She glanced down at her arms, now adorned with an impressive array of angry red welts courtesy of her run-in with Mother Nature's least favorite plant. The poison ivy rash itched with the fury of a thousand tiny, vindictive elves armed with feathers and bad attitudes.

"Note to self," Betsy muttered as she gingerly applied more calamine lotion, "next time you want to play Forest Stumped, maybe start with a plant identification book. Or, you know, common sense."

As she shuffled towards the bathroom, moving with all the grace of a rusty robot, Betsy caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair looked like it had been styled by a particularly enthusiastic tornado, and there were more leaves stuck to her than to most trees.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she announced to her reflection, striking a pose that immediately made her regret having joints, "I give you the fearsome Forest Queen, ruler of all she stumblesover, mistaker of poison ivy for breath mints, and official wolf pack entertainer. Fear my botany skills, tremble at my sense of direction."

With a self-deprecating chuckle, Betsy set about making herself look less like something that had been dragged backward through a hedge and more like a semi-functional human being. By the time she'd detangled her hair and dressed in clothes that didn't look like they'd gone three rounds with an angry bear, she was feeling almost human again.

The siren call of caffeine led her to the kitchen, where she set about brewing a pot of coffee strong enough to wake the dead, or at least strong enough to jolt her system into something resembling alertness.

As the rich aroma of brewing coffee filled the cabin, Betsy's stomach let out a growl that could have been mistaken for a small earthquake. "All right, all right," she soothed her rumbling belly, "I hear you. Let's see what gourmet delights we have in store today."

A rummage through the cupboards yielded a slightly stale granola bar and an apple that had seen better days. "Breakfast of champions," Betsy declared, holding up her meager feast. "Gordon Ramsay, eat your heart out."

She tried to Door Dash, but no one delivered way out here. She was going to have to finish unpacking and take the truck to the nearest town for supplies.

---